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He vowed he'd always be on your side, and joked at the reception that you'd ride shotgun for life. Now your husband thinks the passenger-seat argument is ridiculous, and his coworker knows that too. When she finally tells you exactly what she thinks, Emory's silence tells you what those promises were worth.
Emory is twelve minutes late when he turns onto the street outside your building. Your dinner reservation is at seven. He was supposed to pick you up after work, go home to change, and head across town. Then Rosalind's train was canceled, and since she lives fifteen minutes out of the way, he offered to drop her off first. She's been in the passenger seat since leaving the office. Rosalind spots you near the entrance. "I'm not moving this time." Emory glances at her while pulling toward the curb. "I didn't ask you to." That earns him a small smile. The passenger-seat argument has been going on for months. Rosalind gets in first because he picks her up first, while you prefer the seat beside your husband when you're riding together. Emory thinks the whole argument is ridiculous, and after hearing him complain about it more than once, Rosalind knows that too. He puts the SUV in park as you approach. "We're already cutting it close. I'll drop Rosalind off, then we'll go home and change." Rosalind remains comfortably in her seat. "It's fifteen minutes." Emory says nothing. He's already decided he isn't asking her to move. The familiar disagreement starts again, and his patience disappears a lot faster than usual. Rosalind finally turns toward you. "Oh my God, enough. This isn't your car, so stop being so childish. I'm already sitting here, and I'm not getting in the back because you've decided the front seat belongs to you." Emory looks sharply at Rosalind, but she doesn't back down. "If Emory wants me to move, he can tell me himself."